


I'll be your lighthouse when you're lost at sea

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: F/M, Fish out of Water, Fluff and Humor, Formalwear, Gen, Party, Political Agendas, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 06:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18544018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Bruce invites Arthur and Mera to a wine-tasting party. For some reason.





	I'll be your lighthouse when you're lost at sea

**Author's Note:**

> 1) In this house, we begrudgingly acknowledge _Justice League_ and think that Bruce Wayne is best when a joke,
> 
> 2) Look! We acquired an m/f ship. But if you're thinking that this story isn't gonna get real gay, you'd be wrong.
> 
> 3) Also, everyone is autistic. We don't make the rules.

“You want to take me to _what_?”

“It’s a wine-tasting party at Bruce’s place.” Arthur shrugs. “He’s paying to get us there. I told him you don’t fly, so he’ll get train tickets.”

Mera makes a face. “ _Don’t_ is a strong word,” she mumbles, because she still feels a little bit weak for admitting that she’d rather not do that. She’s trying to work on not subscribing to the definitions of weak that she was raised with, though. “Why do we need to go to his place to taste wine? Can’t we do that here?”

“I mean, yeah, but he’s...fancy. He has a lot of parties where people dress up and stand around and drink wine. It’s kind of his job.”

“But he’s not royal,” she says. “Or what passes for it on the surface. He’s not, is he?”

Snorting, Arthur shakes his head. “Not exactly. We don’t have royals in the US, but he’s kind of like social royalty. He’s a big-deal businessman, and the parties are so people will like him and want to contribute to his business and stuff. This wine tasting is a benefit for cancer research or something. I dunno, I didn’t ask a lot of questions.”

That’s unfortunate, because it’s Mera’s way to do exactly that, and she’s beginning now. “What does wine have to do with cancer?” she asks. “And what do you mean when you say ‘benefit’? Will drinking wine benefit cancer research? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Bruce sponsors a cancer research charity or something and he offered to have a wine tasting to raise money for them,” Arthur explains. “‘Cause he’s charging money for people to come, but he’s inviting us all for free ‘cause we’re teammates or whatever. It’s called a benefit ‘cause the money benefits whoever gets it. I guess. English is stupid sometimes.”

Mera blinks. “You need a charity to sponsor research on how to treat and cure illnesses? That’s not just funded by your government or people with enough money?”

“Nope.” Arthur laughs sheepishly. “We’re kind of fucked for healthcare up here.”

“I don’t understand your people’s priorities,” Mera says flatly.

“Me neither,” Arthur says, and then quickly adds, “So, d’you wanna go? You don’t have to, I just kinda thought it’d be fun.”

“I’d like to go,” Mera agrees, flashing a smile, but then she adds, “Wouldn’t a wine tasting just be drinking wine? You taste things when you drink them. That’s how taste works.”

“Yeah, rich people are weird and fancy about it. They have a whole routine. I’ve never been to one, just seen them on TV.” Arthur grins. “I’ll let Bruce know we’re coming. I can’t wait to see his house - it’s gonna be huge, that dude is _loaded_.”

“Loaded with what?” Mera asks.

“Money. He’s rich.”

“Loaded and load mean very strange things here,” Mera remarks.

“Oh god,” chortles Arthur, “why do you know about _that_ but not half of the other shit I say?”

“I wasn’t sure why or how the man talking to his friend at the market would shoot something heavy that he was carrying on his girlfriend’s face,” Mera replies, straight-faced. “I had to look into it to make sure that she wasn’t injured.”

“Ew.” Arthur wrinkles his nose. “You could’ve just asked me and not looked up porn. I mean, some porn is okay, but sounds like whatever you found wasn’t.”

“I didn’t watch it,” Mera says. “I found it on Urban Dictionary. That’s a very strange place.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, it is. Don’t go on there too much, okay? It gets kind of fucked up.”

Mera nods. “So why is drinking wine in a group of people fancy?”

He shrugs and says, “I guess ‘cause...rich people like wine? I don’t that much, it doesn’t do a lot for me.”

“Wine isn’t special,” she says. “It’s just something you drink. I’ve been drinking wine since I was small, and it’s never bothered me either.”

“No, but everybody decided it’s what rich people drink, so now they do.”

“It’s very easy to make, though,” Mera presses. “Wouldn’t a ‘rich people’ drink be harder to get access to?”

“Nope. Bruce probably has hundred-dollar wine, though.” Arthur shrugs again. “It’s supposed to be higher quality or something.”

“What makes it higher quality?” she asks.

“Uh,” he says, genuinely baffled, “I dunno. Nicer grapes, I guess?”

“That seems foolish and subjective,” Mera declares. “Did Bruce make this wine himself?”

Arthur snorts. “Nah. I mean, maybe he owns a vineyard somewhere, but this is just wine he bought.”

“Then why are we tasting it for him?” Mera asks. “I would understand if he wanted us to rate its quality, I suppose, but if he wasn’t responsible for its production I don’t know why he would rather we taste it than just drink it and enjoy ourselves.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty dumb,” Arthur says. “Rich people are weird. I think it’s an excuse for everyone to dress up fancy and pretend to know stuff about wine.”

“Does what someone wears affect how wine tastes?” Here, Mera pauses and frowns. “You seem to enjoy alcohol regardless of what you wear.”

“Yeah, I like drinking in bars where nobody cares what you wear. You don’t drink wine to get drunk, you drink it so other fancy people think you’re fancy.”

She considers this a moment. “Is this because you strive to emulate your social royalty?”

“Well, not _me_ , but yeah, theoretically. I don’t give a shit, I’m just going ‘cause Diana’s gonna be there and I don’t want her left alone with those bozos.” Arthur grins. “You’ll like her, she’s cool.”

“Will I?” Mera asks. “You say lots of things are cool. You said that hockey was cool.”

That makes him laugh. “Hey, you liked it when that one player got his tooth knocked out.”

“Only when I thought that the other player had knocked his tooth out to get justice for some crime,” she retorts petulantly. “That would have been satisfying. Delighting in a stranger’s accident would be ghoulish.”

“Yeah, alright, well. Diana’s different. She’s a lot like you, actually.”

“In what way?” Mera asks, a little suspiciously.

“She’s tough, and smart, and doesn’t take shit from anyone. And she doesn’t like cruelty either. Oh, and she’s also a princess,” he adds with a shit-eating grin.

This gets Mera’s attention. “Of where?” She’s expecting him to list one of the many countries that apparently exist on the surface (too many, in her opinion).

“Themyscira. It’s some secret island somewhere where there aren’t any dudes.”

“No offense meant, but that sounds like a very interesting place,” Mera says. “Is that all they’re known for? The lack of… ‘dudes’?” She understands that term, but she sounds very silly saying it out loud.

“I mean, they’re all badass warrior women too. They sound pretty cool, Diana was telling me a little about them the last time I saw her. I’m not allowed, obviously, but that’s okay.”

“Hm.” Mera makes a face, feeling utterly ridiculous for the jealous note in her voice when she adds, “How do you like Diana?” It’s just that he’s not this fond toward any of his other colleagues. Or most other people that aren’t her or his parents.

“I mean, not as much as you,” Arthur says quickly. “Not like that. She’s pretty hot, but you’re better. I just think she’s cool and if I don’t go, Bruce is gonna be all dumb and broody at her all evening.”

“I didn’t mean to be strange,” she mumbles, tucking hair behind her ear. “You’re allowed to have enjoyed someone’s company before mine, or… I just wanted to know.”

He leans over to kiss her forehead. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you for asking, I think most dudes would be into her. But she’s just a teammate. I think she’s still hung up on her ex who died awhile back, anyway.”

“Alright,” she says, blushing. “I just don’t want to be…”

“Nah, you’re not. You’re my girl.”

This, of course, makes Mera blush even more. “I like that,” she says. “And I like saving people from others’ dumbness and broodiness, incidentally.”

“Cool,” he grins. “And like, Barry’s okay. Kind of a dork, but not too bad.”

“He’s the small one?” Mera asks, just to make sure.

“Yeah, he runs fast. And he likes K-pop? I don’t get it but it makes him happy.”

“I suppose at least something does,” she says. She’s heard stories about Bruce’s notorious gloominess, after all.

“Hey, I saw Bruce smile once,” he teases. “He pretended like it didn’t happen but I totally saw it.”

“I’m sure he’s technically capable,” she replies lightly, “he just doesn’t seem to like to show it, from what you’ve said.”

Arthur grins and shakes his head. “Nope, not really.” Then he pauses. “Shit. We’re gonna have to find stuff to wear. Don’t think I can just wear the wetsuit.”

“You don’t have something appropriate?” Mera asks. “What would be appropriate? There’s no such thing as formal armor here, is there?”

“No, ‘fraid not,” he says. “You can get away with a nice dress. I gotta find a suit or something, I guess.”

“Nice like it looks nice on me, or nice like it’s made of silk and jewels?”

“Either or,” he replies. “Maybe take it easy on the jewels? We don’t want everyone staring at you and forgetting about the wine.”

“That sounds more like they’d be staring at the jewels,” she teases. “And many nice dresses seem to have those. Your mother was showing me some bridal magazines, and it’s hard to find a dress in there that doesn’t have jewels.”

He raises both eyebrows. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas. Those are way fancier than the kind of stuff everybody’ll be wearing at this party.”

“So not either or then!” Mera crows. “That’s a limit on how fancy I should be.” She pauses, eyes going wide. “Does this mean we’ll go shopping?”

 

* * *

 

“Geez,” Arthur grunts as they walk up the driveway. “Guess I was right about his house.”

Mera stares blatantly at the house, then the dozens of cars, then the people. “Do a lot of these people live here? This is a very large house, I would think it could house a lot of people.”

“I don’t think so. Bruce doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would want a lot of people around.” Arthur grins over at her. “‘Course, he could have like three dozen people living in there and we’d never know.”

“How many people _do_ live here?” Mera asks, sounding horrified.

“Uh, I met his butler Alfred? He doesn’t talk about his family at all, he’s not much of a sharer.”

She shakes her head in disgust. “He could provide shelter to so many people who need it, but charging people money to drink fermented grapes is his idea of charitable action?”

“Rich people are fuckin’ weird,” he says, shrugging. “You should mention that to him, though, I wanna see his face when he tries to explain himself.”

“I will!” she replies, tossing her hair. “He should be made to think about his decisions. They’re not good ones.”

“For sure,” Arthur agrees. “I just don’t think he’s gonna listen to me. He thinks I’m the big dumb trident guy.”

“I think he’s the big dumb… darkness guy,” Mera retorts, nestling into Arthur’s side as they walk. “You’re wonderful.”

“Thanks, babe.” Arthur grins, almost shy, and leans over to kiss her. “You too. Ready for this rich people bullshit?”

She nods. “I’m curious, if nothing else.”

Once inside, the butler ushers them in. “Greetings, Mr. Curry,” Alfred says with a nod. “The festivities are just to the left, in the first ballroom.”

“There’s _more than one ballroom_?” Mera asks in a low voice.

Arthur gives her a shrug, then smiles at Alfred and says, “Thanks.”

“Indeed,” Alfred replies. “And yes, there are two large ballrooms and a smaller one in the east wing. I think the layout leaves something to be desired, but then, I obviously wasn’t consulted during the construction process.”

“Obviously,” Mera says. “You seem sensible.”

“Why, thank you, your highness.” Alfred gives a little bow and winks at her. “Do enjoy yourselves.”

Mera beams, clearly delighted, and gives the most proper curtsy she can manage in her gown (it’s covered in blue sequins and very slinky).

“You don’t have to do that,” Arthur says playfully, once they’re out of Alfred’s earshot. “I mean, it’s cute, but people don’t care so much up here.”

“Well, he seemed polite,” Mera defends. “I wanted to be polite in return.” Then she wrinkles her nose. “Is that cute in a sincere way or cute like I’m being sort of foolish?”

“The first one,” Arthur promises. “You’re all regal and shit. Which is why you’re way better at this ruling-the-ocean stuff than me.”

“I just have more practice,” Mera says judiciously, and then somewhat sheepishly she adds, like it’s something to be embarrassed of,  “And I essentially had the importance of such formalities beat into me, so it’s hard to forget them.”

Arthur winces. “I can’t tell if you mean literally, knowing what Xebel’s like.”

“Forget I said it,” Mera mutters, glancing down. “That’s hardly good party talk.”

“It’s okay.” Arthur rests a comforting hand on her back. “Hey, let’s go meet some rich losers, huh?”

“That sounds nice,” Mera says, relaxing into his touch. “Is there a receiving order, or do we just go around as we see fit?”

“I guess we just wander until someone tells us what to do,” Arthur says with a shrug. “This is my first rich people party.”

Mera nods thoughtfully. “Should we start with the wine we’re meant to be tasting?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Arthur glances around awkwardly before sidling over to one of the tables, which has a selection of several bottles of wine with labels and a row of glasses. He grabs a random red wine, then squints at the label before pouring himself and Mera a glass each. “Sure.”

“Hey!” Bruce suddenly appears, smiling as if it maybe pains him a little. “Nice to see you, Arthur. Ah, you don’t need to pour a whole glass, just enough for a mouthful. You don’t want to overwhelm your-” His sentence ends abruptly as he glances at Mera, eyes wide. “Hello. Bruce Wayne. And you must be...?”

Her eyebrows go up, but she nods coolly. “Princess Y’Mera Xebella Challa.” Arthur may notice (Bruce won’t) that she’s taking some small pleasure in his obvious discomfort.

Bruce does an odd little curtsy. “Should I call you Princess, or…?” Arthur doesn’t bother to hide his grin.

“If you feel you must,” Mera says, shrugging. “On the surface I’m usually just Mera.” Or with people she actually likes, but that’s not as simple of an explanation.”

Bruce nods, still staring. “Well, hello, Mera. Again, I wouldn’t recommend drinking a full glass of this wine, but I suppose if that’s what you want to do I can’t stop you.”

“We’ve already got these glasses,” Mera says, “we wouldn’t want to waste them.” There’s a note of challenge in her voice - _would we_?

“I...suppose not.” Bruce swallows, then nods respectfully at her. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.” He strides off.

Arthur snickers. “I think you scared him.”

“Should I be proud?” Mera asks in a voice that suggests that she already is regardless.

“I dunno if he’s used to women like you,” he says. “Who call him on his shit.”

She tosses her head. “I see no reason not to.”

“He needs it,” Arthur agrees. Then he hands her one glass of wine and picks up the other, sniffing it. “Smells like wine.”

Mera sniffs her glass too, exaggerating the action. “What are we smelling for?”

“Y’know, I actually don’t know. I think you’re supposed to be able to tell what it tastes like, but it just smells like wine to me.” Arthur takes a sip. “Yup. Tastes like wine too.”

“What else would it taste like?” Mera asks, making a face. “Wine tastes like grapes. Surface grapes taste differently than sea grapes - which _apparently_ aren’t even real grapes, I looked - but they’re still grapes.” She sniffs her glass again.

Arthur squints at the card on the table. “Ripe black figs, chocolate and dark plums,” he reads. “Yeah, I didn’t get any of that.” He takes another long drink. “Maybe the plums, a little.”

Finally Mera takes a sip. “What do plums taste like?” she asks quietly. “I taste more than grapes, but I can’t tell if I’m imagining the specific tastes because I’ve been told to look for them.” Her eyes go wide. “Is wine like a word search puzzle?”

“I don’t think anyone else has ever said that,” Arthur says, grinning, “but yeah, sure.”

“I like them, they’re relaxing,” Mera defends. “Simpler than crosswords and less educational, but still. I like the ones you can do on a phone, where you just -” She draws a line across the air with her fingertip, then realizes, “I’m being strange, aren’t I.”

“I think it’s cute,” Arthur says. “I’m the one who talks to sea creatures, anyway.”

“That’s not behaviorally strange, though,” Mera says. “Just remarkable and so uncommon as to be shocking.” She takes another sip of her wine. “Really, what do plums taste like?”

Arthur grunts noncommittally. “I dunno. Plums. Kind of sweet, I guess?”

“Lots of things taste sweet,” Mera says, rolling her eyes. “Like the chocolate that’s also meant to be in this. Although I don’t taste that. Would chocolate even complement grapes? I’m trying to imagine putting a grape in chocolate and I’m appalled.”

“I think it sounds like shit, yeah. This isn’t bad, though.” Arthur downs the rest of his glass. “You want any more of that, or a new one?”

“Let me finish this,” Mera says stubbornly. “It’s not bad. I just don’t understand it.” She takes another, longer sip. “It’s wine. Children can drink wine.”

Arthur gives her an incredulous look. “Uh, they probably shouldn’t. Well, my dad and I drank when I was a kid, but I was like, sixteen, it’s different.”

“Do you know how little there is to drink in the ocean?” Mera exclaims, laughing. “Yes, sure, you live in the water, but you don’t _drink_ that water. Were you under the impression that we milked sea lions?”

He shrugs helplessly. “Someone has to have tried that sometime.”

“It wasn’t me,” she replies, shrugging. “Besides, our wine is even less potent than this wine. How much alcohol is this supposed to even have in it?”

“Not a lot? You’d probably have to drink the whole bottle to feel anything. I’d sure have to drink at least two bottles.” Arthur chuckles.

Mera finishes her glass. “We should get moving on that, then. Let’s try another one.”

Arthur checks the note on a bottle of white wine. “This is another French one,” he says. “Citrus, pineapple, banana, mango, apple,” he reads, then begins to pour the glasses. “Sounds like bullshit, but okay.”

“That sounds like a bag of fruit candy that you could buy at a convenience store,” Mera remarks.

Arthur nods as he takes a sip. “I guess that’s kind of fruity,” he says dubiously. “Not bad, anyway.”

“Hm.” Mera follows suit, taking a long sip and then promptly making a face as she swishes it around in her mouth like she just saw another grown adult doing five feet away. “Fruit, yes.”

“Yeah.” Arthur downs the rest of the glass. “More of an aftertaste than anything else.”

“That’s silly,” Mera says. “We should be able to taste things the first time we consume them or it doesn’t count. Shouldn’t count.” She does the swishing thing again, thoughtful.

Arthur blinks at her. “What are you _doing_? With your mouth?”

“I’m not sure,” Mera shrugs. “Other people are doing it. I thought it would make the taste last longer or have more of an impact.”

“No, I think it just looks kinda stupid,” Arthur teases. “Not that you’re stupid. Anyone would look stupid doing that.”

She makes a face, an exaggerated pouty one. (She’s hoping it will make him feel bad.) “I wanted to see if it worked,” she argues. “It didn’t.”

“Sure,” he agrees, and then does it himself. “Nope,” he says cheerfully. “Now we both looked stupid, so it’s fine!”

Mera finishes this glass, then glances around the room suspiciously. “People are also swirling their wine around inside the glasses,” she says. “I’m going to try that, too.”

Arthur pours himself another glass of a different wine, makes a face like he’s pretending to be a very important person and swirls his wine around, then sniffs it. “Smells like wine.”

“Pour me some, I want to try,” Mera says eagerly.

“Here.” He does, then glances at the description. “Cherries, tobacco, and leather. The fuck?” He takes another sniff. “Yeah, I don’t smell any of that, but okay.”

“Leather isn’t something you consume,” Mera declares. “You consume other parts of the animals you make leather from, but I don’t want the taste of a cow in my wine. Or anywhere.”

“I know,” Arthur says fondly. “Hell, I like steak and burgers, but I don’t wanna _eat_ leather. Or drink it.” He takes a cautious sip. “I think they’re just making some of this up.”

Mera takes a drink as well. “Isn’t tobacco supposed to be bad for you?” she asks.

“Yeah. And it doesn’t taste great either. So I guess that’s just as well?” He shrugs. “Rich people.”

“He says, as if he hadn’t just inherited the wealth of an entire kingdom.”

“Okay, point there.” He grins at her and adds, “But I didn’t _grow up_ with it. Growing up rich makes you super weird. Like Bruce.”

“Princess,” Mera points out, gesturing to herself.

“Okay, fair, but you don’t run around at night in a bat costume chasing after criminals either. I mean, I do that, but not in a bat costume. There’s a difference.”

“Please explain it to me,” she says, eyebrows raised.

He pauses, thinking. “It’s like...a lot of rich people have really weird priorities. Like they want all of the other rich people to know how rich and important they are, so they do stuff like pretend wine tastes like leather or show off their big fancy houses. You don’t really do that, I guess, so it’s different.”

“Why would I pretend a drink tastes like the hide of a dead animal?” Mera asks, but she’s clearly playing with him. “I’m still not sure what that has to do with wealth or status.”

Arthur seems to be trying to form a response to this, when there’s a soft _woosh_ noise and suddenly there’s a man wearing an ill-fitting suit standing next to Arthur. “Hey!” he says, grinning. “Long time no see, huh?”

“Oh, hey,” Arthur says, giving him a friendly nod. “Mera, this is Barry.”

Barry glances over at her and then literally does a double take. “Holy shit! I mean, hi, hello, nice to meet you, I’m Barry.” He offers his hand.

Mera shakes Barry’s hand and laughs, not unkindly. “I didn’t realize that ‘holy shit’ was a possible greeting,” she says. This is her attempt at humor again.

“Oh it’s not usually, I’m just not, words good, I don’t, words. Words? Yeah.” Barry glances over at Arthur in a blatant _help me_ gesture. Arthur, grinning, says nothing.

“Words can be difficult,” Mera agrees, smirking. “How is the running and the K-pop?”

“Uh.” Barry seems slightly taken aback. “It’s, uh, it’s good. Running’s good, yeah. I like running. How did you know I, uh, K-pop?”

“Oh, I told her,” Arthur says, taking another long drink of wine. “She wanted to know stuff about all of you.”

“I also looked up what K-pop was,” Mera says. “Unfortunately, I haven’t learned Korean yet, so most of it went over my head, but it’s fairly catchy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I like it,” Barry agrees. “It’s fun to dance to. Or, y’know, run to?” He shrugs helplessly. “How about you, what do you...do?”

Mera glances at Arthur, then sips her wine. (It’s suggestive, but she didn’t mean it that way.) “I’m still acquiring hobbies,” she says. “In an official capacity I’m a warrior and politician, but I’ve been told that doesn’t make for good conversation.”

“Woah,” Barry says. “So are you...also...ocean?”

“She’s from a different underwater kingdom than mine,” Arthur jumps in, before Mera can derail the conversation to explain the Seven Kingdoms of Atlantis (because he knows she well, and he also knows Barry won’t retain that information or care). “And she was supposed to marry my dickbag half-brother, but then he tried to take over the whole ocean and we stopped him. So she doesn’t have to do that anymore.”

“I don’t,” Mera says, nodding enthusiastically. “But it’s not strange that I’m now…” She glances at Arthur again. “His brother was a political agreement that our fathers brokered, and Orm and I never did more than kiss.” She’s very frank about this.

Barry laughs nervously. “Well, that’s good? I mean, you don’t want to go around kissing dickbags. Or marrying them, for that matter. This guy’s okay,” he adds, gesturing at Arthur. “I’m sure you already know that, but just in case you needed further...confirmation?”

“Wow, thanks,” Arthur says with a snort.

“It’s appreciated,” Mera smirks. “Although I did already figure it out, yes. The hard way.” She nudges Arthur playfully.

“Hey!” he grins. “You got used to me.”

“I did, and I’m glad of it,” she replies, reaching out to boop his nose. Then she says to Barry, “I learned about that online, too. It’s not just something that’s also done in the ocean.”

“Oh good,” he says, obviously relieved. “I was gonna ask, but I thought it might be rude, but I _really_ wanted to know.”

Mera shakes her head. “It’s a very strange surface custom, but it also serves a purpose that many other forms of physical contact do not,” she says. “I like it for that reason.”

“Yeah! Yeah, my girlfriend Iris likes that too. She’s somewhere over there, catching up with friends.” Barry waves his hand generally in the direction of a group across the room. “So how are you liking the wine? I don’t actually like wine that much,” he adds in a stage whisper, “but I like fancy parties.”

“It’s wine,” Arthur shrugs. “Like I was telling her, I don’t drink it a lot ‘cause it doesn’t do much for me.”

“I grew up drinking wine, and while this is objectively better-tasting it’s not special,” Mera says. “I’m glad we aren’t the only ones baffled by this ritual.”

Barry giggles. “No, I really don’t get it either. But it’s kinda fun.” He glances back toward Iris and then waves. “I guess she needs me for something, but nice to meet you, Mera! Later, Arthur!” He zips off with a wave over his shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s Barry,” Arthur says wryly. “The wine’s making him even chattier than usual.”

“He’s very eager,” Mera says. “And young. I didn’t realize he was that young.”

“Yup. He’s the kid on the team. Does okay for himself though.”

“He would have to, in order to still be alive,” Mera points out.

That makes Arthur laugh. “Good point, yeah.”

They polish off one more glass of wine each, and then when they’re just about to start on the next ones, one of the most beautiful women that Mera has ever seen approaches them. She’s _very_ tall, her gown is covered in a geometric pattern of silver sequins, her lipstick is the same dark red as the wine they’re drinking, and Mera herself…

Well, she’s gawking a bit.

Arthur nudges her and grins. “You okay there?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” Mera replies, a little too quickly. “Just…” She trails off. There’s not a polite way to finish.

“Arthur!” the woman says, smiling brilliantly. “So nice to see you here!”

“Hey, Diana,” Arthur says. “How’s it going?”

Mera blinks. “This is Diana,” she says, a little awed and a little sheepish. After pestering him about _his_ relationship with her this is how she reacts! How foolish of her.

“Hello!” Diana says, turning to her. “Yes, I’m Diana. Did Arthur tell you about me? I hope he was complimentary.” She grins at Arthur. “I know the last time we met wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

Arthur shrugs. “Could’ve been worse.”

“He was,” Mera promises. “He likes you best out of all of your teammates.”

That makes Diana laugh. “That’s understandable, I suppose. Bruce is…” She trails off and then changes the subject. “Arthur, you haven’t introduced me to your companion yet.”

“Oh! Right. This is Mera, Princess of Xebel. I was telling her you’re both princesses so you have that in common.” Arthur grins at Mera, who’s still staring at Diana.

“And warriors,” Mera says quickly, not wanting to seem spoiled. “Princess warriors.”

Arthur laughs and tries very hard to cover it up (unsuccessfully). “That too, yeah.” He’s enjoying how quickly Mera’s composure fell apart the second Diana came over.

“Why is that funny?” Mera asks, looking annoyed.

“Just not a phrase I would’ve thought of,” Arthur says. “Not super common as a combination.”

“I think it was very nice,” Diana says. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mera.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, too.” Mera does another awkward curtsy, this one slightly hindered by the not-insignificant amount of wine she’s consumed. (She’s not _drunk_ , but she certainly feels the alcohol by now.)

“Anyway, Mera’s really good in a fight,” Arthur says. “Tell Diana about the time you got chased in Italy and stabbed some dudes with wine.”

Diana blinks. “Wine? The bottles, or…?”

Mera grins. “We’d fallen through the roof of a small wine shop - the soldiers were chasing me across rooftops, and also they were royal soldiers sent to track us down and execute us by my ex-fiance, who had duped my father - and I didn’t have any weapons, so I manipulated the aqueous elements in the wine to burst out of the bottles and form daggers,” she says in a rush. “Do you want to see? I won’t break anything or stab anyone this time.” And before anyone has a chance to answer, she starts manipulating what wine remains in her glass into a very tiny version of the aforementioned daggers.

Diana’s eyes go wide and she stares at the tiny liquid daggers in wonder. “That’s incredible!” she says. “Can you do this with all liquids, or just wine?”

“Oh, all,” Mera says casually. “I can control water in its natural state -” She pauses here to let the daggers return to just being wine in a glass, then she twists the wine into a strand. “- and I can create hard water objects.”

“And she’s pretty good at hand-to-hand combat too,” Arthur adds proudly.

“I’d love to compare our techniques sometime,” says Diana. “I was trained with my sisters on Themyscira, but I imagine Xebel has methods that haven’t even occurred to us.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” Mera says. “I can only imagine how being trained by women, with women, would be different than…” She rolls her eyes a little. “Well.”

“Xebel’s not great,” Arthur says quickly, putting a comforting hand on Mera’s back. “It’s kind of fucked up, actually. Long story.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Diana frowns. “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to-”

“You didn’t!” Mera exclaims. “I learned many valuable things from my home, not all of them bad. And not every bad thing I learned was Xebel’s fault, either. I’ve just realized since meeting Arthur that some of my experiences weren’t as normal as I believed.”

Diana nods. “That’s good. But I’m sorry you had to live through the bad things. You don’t deserve that.”

Mera goes very pink. “Thank you,” she murmurs, and then in a panic she adds, desperate to change the subject, “Your lipstick matches the wine.”

“Thank you! I wasn’t trying, I just like the color, but I suppose it all worked out.”

“It’s a very pretty color,” Mera assures. “Don’t you think, Arthur?” This last part is added sort of belatedly, like she’s suddenly afraid he feels ignored.

Arthur is enjoying watching them talk, and really doesn’t mind at all that he’s being temporarily ignored, but he nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I don’t know anything about makeup, but it looks nice.”

“It’s a kind of art, I think,” Diana says. “Sometimes I like to watch those videos on the internet, you know, where the girls show you how to do different kinds of makeup? It’s fascinating.”

“I haven’t seen those,” Mera says, sounding awed. “I’m still learning how to use the internet.”

“I can show you later,” Arthur offers. “There’s a fuckton of them. I don’t know how to do any of it, but it seems pretty cool. It’s a lot of work, anyway.”

“I could teach you,” Diana adds, “if he’s busy. I know you have a lot to do, Arthur, not to presume.”

“No, no, you’re right,” Arthur says, amused. “I’ve got, y’know, stuff. Lots of stuff.”

“To do makeup or to use the internet?” Mera asks, voice faint. “I do need help with both.”

That makes Diana chuckle. “Either, I suppose. I’m told I’m a good teacher.”

Mera makes a desperate, small squeaking noise and Arthur, even though he’s enjoying the show, takes pity on her and says, “She’d like that, I think. So, what do you think of the wine?”

“It’s quite nice. I don’t really know what I’m doing at wine tastings, but I like wine and I like talking to people, so it sorts itself out.” Diana takes a sip from her glass. “What are the two of you drinking?”

“Oh, uh, I dunno,” Arthur shrugs. “Something white? We’ve kinda just been grabbing random bottles.”

“Bruce said we were only supposed to have small sips of each,” Mera says, “but he told us that after we’d already poured our first glasses and I didn’t want to let it go to waste.”

Diana smirks. “It’s alright. I don’t think Bruce understands that there’s more than one way to do things.”

“Did you know there are three ballrooms in this house?” Mera asks. “Most homes here don’t even have one ballroom. I’ve seen entire houses that are smaller than this ballroom.”

“Yes, he’s mentioned it.” Diana rolls her eyes fondly. “He’s very proud of the ballrooms, for some reason. I suppose that’s why he has all these fancy parties, to show them off. I grew up in a palace and I still think this is excessive.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mera asks. “I can say a great deal about Xebel, or Atlantis for that matter, but if either place had a fraction of the homelessness problem that the surface seems to, rooms like this would be converted to shelter at least temporarily.” She scoffs.

Diana nods. “I definitely agree. I do what I can, but it frustrates me that so many are in need and those in charge do little or nothing about it. I’m glad you feel the same. On a brighter note, it seems you’ve chosen well, Arthur,” she adds. “I quite like her.”

Arthur beams. “Thanks. She’s okay,” he teases, leaning over to kiss Mera’s forehead.

Mera swats at Arthur, but gently, laughing. “I think I like you best of Arthur’s teammates, too,” she declares.

“I agree,” Arthur says cheerfully. “I’d offer to have you over for dinner or something but my dad’s lighthouse is kinda small, and our palace is...underwater.”

Diana grins. “I think we can figure something out. I’d like to talk more with both of you sometime.”

“It would be nice,” Mera says shyly, “to talk to someone who’s… well, who’s had to learn this world from scratch before, too. It’s a strange feeling.”

“Yes,” Diana agrees. “You’ve had ice cream, haven’t you? It’s my favorite.”

“Not yet,” Mera says. “Every time Arthur suggests it, it’s already so cold out.”

“I’ve only suggested it twice,” he chimes in with a laugh. “You just get cold easily.”

“I blame your hometown,” Mera shrugs. “I didn’t get cold in Italy.”

“Sorry,” Arthur replies. “Maine is just cold sometimes.”

“Anyway,” Mera says archly, “no, I haven’t had ice cream. Are there ice cream restaurants that are open this late? I’m very warm right now.”

Arthur glances at his phone. “Probably, if we hustle. Are you inviting Diana too?” he teases.

“Yes,” Mera says. “It was her idea. And if it’s her favorite, it would be rude not to ask her.”

“I don’t have any plans after this,” Diana says. “I’d love to get ice cream with you.”

Mera nods eagerly. “We’d be honored,” she says. “Does ice cream taste like leather?”

Surprised, Diana laughs. “Not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, we found a wine earlier that said it would taste like leather,” Arthur explains. “It didn’t. Just tasted like wine. But it sounded really gross.”

“I don’t like eating anything that you could also make leather out of,” Mera chimes in. “And leather itself isn’t for eating, so I don’t see why anyone would enjoy the taste of it.”

“That makes sense,” agrees Diana. “Well, don’t worry, ice cream is very sweet. It usually tastes like some kind of chocolate, or plant, or fruit. I don’t think anyone would ever make leather ice cream.”

“Good,” Mera says. She looks around the room before asking Arthur, in what she clearly thinks is a hushed voice, “Do we need to tell Bruce we’re leaving?”

Arthur glances around too, as if to double-check, then shrugs. “Nah. I think most people are kinda wandering in and out. We can just leave.”

“Good,” Mera says again. “I think ice cream with Diana sounds much more pleasant than wine at the behest of Bruce.”


End file.
